The Brown Fox Mystery (26 page)

An electric organ blared from somewhere in the big top and drowned out Spitfire’s reply.

“Hey! Where’s that guy Socker?” Spitfire asked when he could make himself heard. “He said he’d come along and pick you boys up.”

“Oh, he’ll be along, Mr. Peters,” Djuna said. “Don’t you wait here because of us. We’ll stay right here and he’ll be along soon.”

“You won’t go away?”

“Oh no, sir! We’ll just wander around the tent and keep out of the way. We’ll see him when he comes,” said Djuna.

“All right, boys. I’ll pedal along then,” Spitfire told them. “I’ll see you later.”

Djuna and Tommy said good-by to Mr. Barrow, the catcher, also, and looked around to say good-by to Trixie Cella, but she had already disappeared.

After Spitfire had disappeared, too, they wandered down the hippodrome track and watched a powerful man with bulging muscles practice on two stationary horizontal bars, doing giant swings and other things that made their eyes bulge, while workmen swarmed through the big top, each with his own appointed task.

“Golly,” Tommy said in real bewilderment. “You wouldn’t think they’d ever be able to have a circus in here because everyone seems to be running around in circles. But I guess they’re not.”

“Hey!” Djuna said by way of reply. “Look down there! There’s an elephant pushing a big wagon!”

Sure enough, at the end of the big top, where it connected with the menagerie, an elephant was pushing a canvas-covered cage into the menagerie.

Djuna and Tommy started toward it, then stopped as Djuna said, “We better wait here for Mr. Furlong.”

“Yeah, I guess we had better,” Tommy agreed.

But they both kept gazing wistfully toward the menagerie, while they kept an eye open for Socker Furlong, until Djuna said, “Say, I don’t think it would hurt if we just peeked into the menagerie for a minute. Mr. Furlong would wait for a couple of minutes anyway.”

So they both went down to the end of the tent and went through the canvas tunnel into the menagerie and the first thing they saw was the picket line of elephants, each chained to a large stake driven into the ground and fastened with a “half hitch.”

Djuna and Tommy stared with round eyes at the great beasts and then Djuna saw the two baby elephants, that were only about six feet high, right in front of him. He stared at them and then he noticed that they were both doing the same things at the same time and he grabbed hold of Tommy’s arm and whispered, “Look at them! They’re practicing!”

“Practicing?”
Tommy whispered back. “Practicing what?”

“Watch!”
Djuna said and he looked all around to see if there was a trainer anywhere near them.

But there wasn’t anyone near them.

They would raise one foot in unison and kick, just like two girls in a theatrical chorus. Then they would raise the other foot in unison and kick again. After they had kicked a half-dozen times with each foot they knelt in unison, and when they got back on their feet they raised their trunks and trumpeted together to show that it was the end of their act.

“Jiminy crimps!” Tommy said. “They act just like real people!”

“There they go again!” Djuna said, and they watched again, with open mouths, while the two baby elephants started to practice their act again, without anyone near them, and with no one giving them orders.

But this time when they were halfway through the act an animal man went by them with a load of hay on a pitchfork. As he passed by the second elephant, she lifted her trunk and snatched a few wisps of hay from the fork. She curled it up and shoved it into her mouth, while the other elephant kept right on practicing.

Then, as the elephant that had kept on practicing started to kneel, she noticed that the other one had stopped. Her beady eyes opened and she looked for an instant like a cranky old schoolteacher who has caught a pupil shooting a spitball. Her trunk came up with an angry squeal, and caught the other elephant just back of the ear and sent her reeling dizzily on her chain.

In another instant the fight was on. They were lashing at each other with their trunks while they trumpeted and squealed. “Bull men,” or elephant keepers, tumbled out of a small tent behind the picket line, while the other elephants began to mill and trumpet. Bull hooks were used and the two squealing, angry elephants were pulled apart.

“They got into a scrap over their act,” one of the bull men said to the wide-eyed Tommy and Djuna. “Worse than a couple o’ ham vaudeville performers. But they’ll make up. Watch ’em.”

Djuna and Tommy continued to watch them after the bull men had gone back into the tent. For the next few minutes the two baby elephants wouldn’t look at each other. They sulked like two sulky children until, after a bit, they began to sneak glances at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

Suddenly, one of them lifted her right front foot, and the other one lifted her right front foot at the same time. Then the left feet came up and they went into their act again, without a trainer in sight!

“They say that elephants are the most intell—intelli—have the most brains of any animal,” Djuna said. “I could stay here all day and watch them.”

“So could I,” said Tommy and then he gazed at the tent into which the bull men had disappeared. “I wonder what’s in there?” he added.

“I don’t think it would do any harm if we peeked in to find out,” Djuna said and he grinned at Tommy.

“Let’s,” Tommy said, and they started to circle the picket line of elephants to approach the front of the small tent.

There was no one at the entrance when they reached it so they pulled back the flap an inch or two and both peered in. Suddenly their eyes opened even wider than they had opened at any time that morning. They stared, and then they looked at each other with incredulous wonder in their eyes.

“They’re painting that elephant white!” Djuna said in a horror-stricken voice.

“Don’t you suppose I can see!” Tommy said fiercely. “It’s just a reg’lar elephant.”

“Of course it is,” Djuna said excitedly—and he quoted from the circus poster they had seen on Mr. Boots’s shop: “‘See the only SACRED WHITE ELEPHANT in captivity outside Siam!’ … It’s just an old fake!” he finished, with something that was very close to a sob in his voice. He whirled away from the tent and said, “C’mon, let’s go find Mr. Furlong.”

Both of the boys were silent as they went past the picket line of elephants again. They went through the canvas tunnel into the big top and saw Socker Furlong and Cannonball McGinnty standing under the flying rig above the first ring. They shouted, and both started to run, dodging workmen as they ran.

“Hi, kids, havin’ fun?” Cannonball McGinnty said as they came rushing up.

“Golly, Cannonball,” Djuna said. “I don’t think I
ever
had so much fun before.”

“Not even the time you were traveling with old Mr. Scissors and he used to play his accordion so we could sing?” Cannonball asked.

“Well,” Djuna said uncertainly. “
That
was a lot of fun, too.”

“Say!” Cannonball said. “Wouldn’t it be swell if we could find someone with an accordion so we could sing today? Maybe they’d let us march in the grand spec and sing!”

“What do you want to do, drive out the customers?” Socker Furlong wanted to know. “What cooks, kids?”

“Say, Mr. Furlong!” Djuna said.

“Did I hear you say ‘Socker’?” said Socker.

“That’s what I meant, Socker,” Djuna said and he grinned. “Do you know what we just saw?”

“No,” Socker said. “What did you just saw?”

“We went in the menagerie,” Djuna said, “and saw a couple of baby elephants practicing their act without anyone near them. They were just practicing, without being told.”

“Sure,” Socker said. “Those pachyderms are smart babies. They’re almost human.”

“But that wasn’t what I was going to tell you,” Djuna said quickly. “We—”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Socker said in mock astonishment. “Do you think I can stand the real news?”

“No—honest—” Djuna said. “After we watched the elephants practicing for a while, we peeked into a small tent that was put up inside the menagerie, where the elephant tenders stay, or something. And what do you suppose they were doing?”

“Playing ring-around-the-rosy?” Socker guessed after he pretended to be thinking very hard.

“No,” Djuna said and he couldn’t help snickering, in spite of the way he felt when he thought of what he was going to tell Socker. “We saw three or four men painting an elephant white! Just a plain ordinary elephant, that is
supposed
to be ‘the only SACRED WHITE ELEPHANT in captivity outside Siam’!” Djuna’s voice was bitter as he finished.

“Now, wait a moment, my little pink-cheeked picaroon,” Socker said. “That
is
a white elephant! I know it doesn’t
look
white, and I don’t know if it is the only one in captivity outside Siam, but it
is
a white elephant. You see, a white elephant looks just like any other elephant. It’s sort of a pinkish gray, almost like any elephant, and it has a few pink spots in various places around its ears. That’s the only difference. And that’s why they have to paint it white to make people believe it
is
white. You see, it’s pretty hard to explain to people why a white elephant looks just like any other elephant. So they just paint her and don’t try to explain.”

“Oh, I see,” Djuna said; and for some reason he couldn’t have explained to himself he felt very much better about the whole thing.

“And while I’m explaining about elephants,” Socker went on, “I might as well tell you that although they call the elephant tenders ‘bull men,’ none of the elephants are bulls. They are all females, because they’re more gentle than the males. The females are bad enough. When they start on a rampage they’re mighty dangerous. And they’re positively human. Sometimes, in a fit of rage, they’ll kill their keeper, and then almost die of grief afterward. They’re honest as the day is long and yet they’ll steal anything they can eat. They can be as funny as a clown or as sad as a professional mourner at a funeral…. I’ll tell you some more about them sometime.”

“Jeepers,” said Tommy, “I wish you would, Mr. Furlong.”

“Socker, to you!” said Socker.

“Say, Mr. Furlong,” Djuna said. “Do you know the man who is Mr. Peters’s catcher?”

“Ned Barrow? Sure,” Socker said. “Nice guy. Good catcher, too, ordinarily. How did their rehearsal go this morning? Spitfire said he was missing his catches last night.”

“He said it was because of some light that was reflected in his eyes,” Djuna explained quickly.

“I’d want to be sure there wasn’t any light reflected in my catcher’s eyes if
I
was flying sixty feet above the net,” Socker said with conviction, adding, “A guy can break his neck if he lands in that net wrong.”

“I—I wondered, Socker,” Djuna interrupted, “if you knew anything about him. I—I sort of think I’ve seen him before. Tommy was with me so it’s all right if I tell you in front of him.” Djuna stopped and looked at Cannonball, and Socker began to laugh.

“Yeah, it’s all right to talk in front of Cannonball,” he said. “He can keep his mouth shut if you put enough tape on it.”

“Phooey to you, you big block of blubber!” Cannonball said. “What about this guy Barrow, Djuna? Where did you see him before?”

Djuna looked up at Socker and saw that he had that very peculiar expression in his eyes that Djuna had seen several times before, on various occasions.

“Well,” Djuna said—and he looked distressed and as though he wished he hadn’t mentioned Mr. Barrow—“you see, Mr. Boots brought Tommy and me over to Riverton here from Edenboro, before—about ten days ago, to help him get some lumber. On the way over he drove around by old Mr. Grant’s home on top of a hill.”

“That’s Sonny’s father’s place?” Socker asked.

“That’s right,” Djuna said. “Only he’s dead now. He—”

“Sure. I know that,” Socker said. “So what?”

“We stopped in front of the old stone house,” Djuna went on, “and Mr. Boots showed us the iron animals on the lawn and everything.

“Then, just before we drove away, I happened to be looking up at the watchtower on top of the house and suddenly I saw a man up there swinging on a limb. He swung back and forth once, and then let go of a limb and shot right into the watchtower. Honest! I saw him!”

“Did you tell Mr. Boots?” Socker asked.

“Yes,” Djuna said; “didn’t I, Tommy? I told him and he thought I was stringing him. He said I was always seeing things that other people didn’t see, and that I was pulling his leg; so I didn’t say anything more about it. I’d almost forgotten it until I saw Mr. Barrow up on the catcher’s trapeze, in just about the same position he was in that day and—and I thought he was the same man I’d seen ‘fly’ into Mr. Grant’s window.”

“Have you said anything to anyone else about this, Djuna?” Socker asked.

“No,” Djuna said.

“We’ll check it some way, Djuna,” Cannonball said. “I believe you. I remember when we didn’t believe you once before, and I know a couple of times when that big fathead standing beside you wouldn’t believe you.” He gave Djuna a pat on the back and added, “But forget it for now, because I can hear the calliope callioping, so it’s time for the parade. We’ll talk about it later.”

“I believe you, too, Djuna,” Socker said. “In fact, I wouldn’t dare disbelieve you, even if I knew you were wrong, after what has happened before!”

“Jeepers, Socker, I don’t want you to feel like
that!
” Djuna said miserably. “I just told you because—”

“Forget it for now, kid,” Socker said and he grinned down at Djuna. “C’mon!” Socker twisted his hat around and his mouth with it and shouted, “The be-ee-eg show! This a-way to the b-e-ee-g show! The performance starts soon after the stupendous, spi-i-ine ting-g-g-ling p-a-a-rade! Buy yoah tickets for the b-e-ee-g show!”

The calliope blared outside and they all started for the exit to get a good place to see the big parade.

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